This We Can Do
by Probably Brilliant
Summary: Compassion was only sort of new to him.
1. Chapter 1

He walked into her office with no purpose at all. In fact, had it been earlier in the day, or even the week, it wouldn't have been a big deal. Something about right time, right place. She was sitting on the couch, wrapped in a blanket, her face buried in her arms. She didn't hear the door open, and she didn't acknowledge his entrance. Her body was shaking, but she wasn't crying. He walked over to the couch and put a hand gently on the back of her neck and the other he pressed against her forehead. She looked up at him, and began to speak. He shushed her before the words could tumble out. When he had decided she was fevered, he pulled his hands away from her forehead. She continued to shiver, and he pulled her into his warm body.

"How's the chemo going?" He whispered, as to not aggravate the throbbing pain she was obviously feeling around her temples.

"Hell" She managed to get out. He took note of the trash can placed next to the foot of the coffee table.

"What hurts?" He asked. She was surprised at how genuine he could be. She had felt it a few times. Once, when they were in medical school, she had the flu and he was like this. She loved that no matter how miserable she felt, he could just be there. "Lis, what hurts?" He asked again, pulling her out of her thoughts.

"Everything" She sobbed into his shoulder.

"Alright, just relax. I'm right here." He couldn't tell her that she was okay, because she wasn't. He was a straight shooter, and lying wasn't going to make her feel any better.

"House" She moaned, and he could hear the agony in her voice. If he thought his hear t could break, it would have.

"I know." He mumbled reassuringly. "How about I take you home?" It wasn't really a question.

"I don't know if I can-" She hated to be vulnerable with most people, but it was stupid to even attempt strength with him. "-make it to the car." She felt weak, and that scared him. She was not a weak woman.

"We'll take mine. It's closer." He helped her off the sofa, and wrapped her in his jacket. She stood tight against him as they exited the office and he put on a look that may even have terrified God himself.

"Don't let me fall" She begged.

"Wouldn't dream of it" He replied gruffly, never taking his eyes off the door. When they got to his car, he settled her in his passenger side, and she allowed him to clip her in. He took note of her constant shivering and blasted the heat in the car. The late November cold snuck up on his body and he let out his own shiver, grateful for the warmth of the car. She fell asleep before he made it out of the lot.

Stopping the car out front of his apartment, he went over to her side.

"Hey" He whispered in an attempt to wake her, but it was to no avail. He figured that if he took the elevator he could probably carry her. So, without a second thought he unclipped her seatbelt and pulled her against his body. He entered an elevator full of other people, _of course_. He put the scary look back on his face as he leaned his back against the wall.

"House?" One of the other people in the elevator asked curiously. He absolutely hated that man for speaking.

"I drugged her, thought the least I could do was take her home." He muttered.

"Are you serious!" The man shouted, everyone else just looked awkwardly at the floor.

"No! Damn it, she's sick." Cuddy shifted in his arms, beginning to wake up. "And now you've woken her. Can't you just mind your own damn business?" He muttered, but his face softened when he looked down at the woman in his arms. She closed her eyes, and turned her face back into his chest. The elevator doors parted and he made his way into his apartment.


	2. Chapter 2

He set her on the couch and removed her shoes, before moving to set one of his own small buckets by the head of the sofa.

"House?" She pleaded as she felt him moving away.

"I'm just going to go grab you something to sleep in." He reassured. She nodded and turned her head into the cold leather. She took in the smell of his apartment, and smiled at the reassuring mix of the weird soap he bought, and leather. It was comforting to be surrounded by the very things that put her at ease. He shuffled around in his room before grabbing a pair of cotton sleep pants and an old T-shirt. She turned to face him, and he took in her appearance.

"Thanks" She murmured.

"You can take a shower if you want…" He started, nervous on where he was supposed to go next. He just stood awkwardly, holding the sleep clothes.

"Yeah" And she got up, and made her way to the bathroom. "House" She called after a while of standing half naked in the bathroom shivering.

"Yeah?" He called from the living room after pulling a blanket and pillow from the linen cupboard.

"I can't work the shower." She mumbled, obviously frustrated. He walked in and noticed how upset she was.

"It's okay, I got it." He whispered, and turned the lights down in the bathroom. He opted to run a bath instead, as it would be easier to maneuver her in and out of if need be. "I'm just going to leave the towel and clothes here on the counter." He didn't want her to be uncomfortable. In fact, he needed her to feel like she could come to him. Everyone else was out of the question.

"Stay" She replied as she breathed out. He sat down with his back against the tub to give her what little privacy he could and rolled his shirt sleeve up to his elbow. Slowly, he set he arm over the edge of the tub, and only relaxed when her fingers found his. She sat in the tub for a long time, probably longer than what was comfortable for his shoulder, but she took solace in his skin on hers. He eventually turned and got sight of her flushed face. A huge part of him wanted to take her pain away, but he knew all he could do was wait it out. She got out of the tub after what seemed like an eternity and changed into his far to large pajamas. She whimpered as the pain of bending over to pull the pants up hit her, and he immediately stepped in. Gently, in an effort to not agitate her oversensitive skin, he pulled the pants up the length of her legs, and to her hips. She managed to get back to the couch on her own, and he was grateful for that. His leg was screaming at him for carrying her just an hour earlier.

"How do you feel?" He asked, his voice now at a normal volume.

"Less cold" She replied, and he sat on the couch next to her. His hand snuck its way up to her forehead and he let it sit there as she leaned in to his touch.

"Yeah, well, you're still fevered." He replied gruffly. "Tired?" She merely nodded in return. He reached to the side of the sofa and grabbed the linens he set down earlier. She stretched out on the sofa, and he covered her body in the thick wool of the blanket. He could see in her eyes that she _needed_ physical contact. It wasn't in him to give it all the time. He could barely bring himself to pat Chase on the back the other day, but this was easy. This was her. So he moved to the end of the sofa and put her legs over his lap, propping his own up on the coffee table. She snuggled deeper into the blanket's warmth and allowed herself to succumb to sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

She only managed to sleep for about fifteen minutes before she turned to her side and emptied what little her stomach held into the bucket. He didn't move until she laid back and he noticed the tears running from the side of her face. He set a hand on her stomach, and her watery gaze met his concerned one.

"Hey now, don't cry. It's nothing to be embarrassed or upset about. Sick people sort of have free reign to puke wherever they want." He smiled at her, but his words did nothing but spur on her tears. He pulled her up into his lap the way one would to comfort a small child. Pulling the blanket tighter around her, he opted to just hold her. Eventually the crying did subside and she looked up at him.

"I'm sorry" She croaked out.

"Don't be." He replied.

"I don't want to have cancer." She said into his shirt.

"I know."

"I don't want to be upset."

"I know."

"I don't feel good."

"I know." He said, adjusting her so she was laying down again, her head in his lap. He set a hand on her back and began to massage out the tension he could. He heard her audibly moan under his touch.

"My hair is falling out." She whispered into his leg, and he felt hot tears soak through the fabric of his sweats.

"You're stunning" He replied, keeping up with the soothing motion on her back, hoping it would lull her back to sleep.

"I really like my hair." She thought it was petty, but it was true. She had nice hair. He smiled at how, of all the things she could fret over, this is what she chose. Lisa Cuddy may attempt to seem complex, but she was a woman, after all. She wanted to be held, she wanted to be loved, and she wanted to feel pretty for Christ's sake.

"You will continue to be stunning." She turned her head up and looked at him. "What?"

"Bathroom" She replied, and as quickly as he could, he ushered both of them to the bathroom. Chemo wasn't pretty. It wasn't clean. No part of it was anywhere in the same ballpark as fun. Ironically, he held her hair back as she heaved into the toilet bowl. Tears fell from her face, and he wondered if she'd ever stop producing them. She pulled up from the basin, and relaxed into his body. "This is not how I wanted to spend this week." She screamed into the ceiling. Any normal person would have jumped at her sudden outburst, but he knew. He knew this was going to be torture for her.

He'd seen families leave patients in the week after chemo. They'd just let the patient handle themselves. He couldn't imagine it. Cuddy could barely walk to the bathroom, let alone bathe, feed, and look after herself.

"It's only the first round." He reminded. "You have a week before the next one. I'll come if you want." He didn't know why he offered. He wanted to be there for her.

"I don't want to do this eight more times." She cried. "I want to die. My head hurts, and my stomach hurts. I'm not comfortable any way I sit. I just want to not be in misery. Is that too much to ask!" She screamed again, and the stress caused her stomach to cramp, and sent her back over the toilet.

"We will do this." He replied. And somehow, when he said _we_, it took half the strain off her shoulders.


	4. Chapter 4

They made it through the next three days just fine. She felt well enough to get some work in, but he made her stay in bed if she was going to do it. By Thursday, he left her to run some errands and check up on a few cases. His apartment was clean when he came back that evening, groceries in hand. She was sitting on the couch in a pair of his boxers and her sweatshirt watching some old movie she found on TV.

"Did you clean?" He asked, eyes wide, as he stared at his apartment.

"Yeah, I felt good this morning, and you were out." She replied, not looking up from the TV.

"You didn't have to-"He started, about to scold her for probably overexerting herself.

"Greg, I felt good, so I cleaned up a little. I don't feel as good now, so I'm not doing anything." She replied, frustration beginning to show on her face. She could melt him, and all it took was his first name. He gave up on his lecture and set the grocery bags on the counter.

"Hungry?" He called from the kitchen.

"Absolutely!" She chimed back. He was glad she at least felt well enough to eat. The silently ate the sandwiches he had made, before she opted to go to bed. He followed her into the bedroom and watched from the door as she got comfortable on his side of the bed. He'd been sleeping on the couch, and as much as he wanted to give her some privacy, but his leg was killing him.

"I'm sleeping in here tonight." He mumbled, changing into his pajamas, and crawling into the other side of the bed.

"I'm going back to work tomorrow." She replied. And he nodded before he realized she was turned away.

"Sounds good, round two is in four days. You should get the work you can done now." They slept soundly for the first time in since her diagnosis. He woke up feeling ten times better, and by the look on her face, so did she. They got ready in tandem, and he drove to the hospital.

They walked in together, but the second they got into the building, everything that had gone down the previous week was ignored. They did the witty banter, and the arguing despite the fact that everyone knew what had happened.

She slept at home that night, and she didn't care for it.

The next morning she walked into his office and found him asleep in the arm chair. She shook him awake and he looked up at her.

"What?" He snarled in her direction, considering tossing in a comment about her ass.

"My appointment is for tomorrow at three. Can you still make it?" She replied professionally.

"Yeah, of course. I said I'd be there. I'll be there." He replied with his voice even. She couldn't even hear a trace of sarcasm. He could sense her disbelief. "Lisa, I'm coming. I will see you at two forty-five tomorrow, and we'll do this again." He said calmly. She nodded and left.

At two forty four he rounded the corner to the chemotherapy wing. She was sitting in jeans and a t-shirt with a sweater pulled over top. Her thinning hair was pulled into a messy bun off her neck. She sat staring, horrified, in at the patients that looked like shells of people, wondering when it would happen to her. He managed to make it halfway to her before she noticed him, and an unexplainable calm took over her body. He reached her and offered his arm as they made their way in.

"Dr. Cuddy!" The tech greeted, excitedly. His eyes turned to House. "Oh, and you brought House." He added with less enthusiasm.

"Surprise!" House bellowed.

"Okay honey, let's get you all set up." The tech said to Cuddy, ignoring House. "Just roll up your sleeve and then you'll feel a little pinch!" The flinch she showed gave the impression that she had been stabbed not pinched. The tech started up the machine as she got comfortable in the chair, and he drew the curtain back as he left. She reached for House's hand, and he met her halfway. Her body was already beginning to feel the strain of the poison coursing through her veins. She looked at him with pain in her eyes.

"What can I do?" He asked

"Hold me?" She pleaded. She was done trying to be strong about this. She needed him to love her. She needed him to care. But most importantly, she needed him to hold her and tell her that she was alright.

He adjusted her in his lap in the fake leather hospital chair, and she set her head in the crook of his neck, playing with the hem of his worn down t-shirt. He pushed the chair back into a reclined position. She drifted off against his chest, taking in the smell of his soap, trying to place the scent. The last thing she thought before she allowed the warmth of his body to pull her into sleep was that maybe it was cinnamon.

He stared down at the sleeping woman in his lap. She looked so small curled into him. A nurse came by and laid a blanket over them, and he smiled at her in thanks. He tilted his head back and thought about how much she had changed him. A revelation hit him. He hadn't had any Vicodin since her diagnosis.


	5. Chapter 5

It was probably eight at night when they made it home. She tracked in sleepily, latched onto his good side. He took off his coat, and helped her shrug out of hers when they got in the door.

"How do you feel?" He asked as she stumbled closer to his bedroom door.

"Tired" She whined in his general direction. He pulled a T-shirt out of his drawer for her to sleep in. She changed while he grabbed one of the buckets, just in case. He stripped out of his jeans and crawled in on the other side of the bed.

He awoke to the sound of her whimpering in her sleep. She was curled into herself, hands pressed firmly against her stomach. When he reached for her, all he got was a handful of sweat soaked sheets. He sat in the bed, and pulled her head onto his lap. For what felt like the thousandth time, he felt her forehead for a fever. He pulled his hand back at how hot she felt. Shaking her awake, and reaching for his shoes all in one motion, he pulled her out of the bed.

"House, I feel awful." She whispered when he had her in the car.

"I know. We're going to the hospital. You're running a pretty high fever." Tears leaked out of the corners of her eyes as he sped down the freeway. He pulled into the ambulance bay and was greeted by Chase who had, thankfully, brought a wheel chair.

"Greg" She cried from the chair, and he put a hand over hers.

"I'm right here. Chase is going to get you admitted and then Cameron is going to do a workup. We're going to get your fever down, and you'll feel better." He reassured. Chase looked shocked at his calming tone.

"Don't leave" She begged.

"I'm not going anywhere" She was admitted within ten minutes, and Cameron was in her room five after that. He was on forehead mopping duty, and she was shocked with how gentle he was. Cuddy was sleeping and his eyes begged her to just let her sleep.

"You know I have to do the exam." She told him.

"She's exhausted." He pleaded.

"I have to wake her." Cameron replied.

"I'll do it." He shook her gently, and she moaned in response. "Lis, Cameron's going to do a quick exam, we're going to get some med's into you, and you and I'll be home before you know it. I just need you to wake up for me." She opened her eyes, and kept them on him the entire time. Cameron finished the exam in record time, and called House out of the room after Cuddy drifted off.

"We're going to keep her overnight. You can probably take her home in the morning." Cameron said with as much comfort as she could muster.

"Okay" He replied, defeated. He limped back into Cuddy's room and slept in the chair.

She rose with the sun that next morning. He felt the shift in her body and picked his head up off the bed.

"Hey" He smiled at her. "How do you feel?" He asked, and suddenly felt like an overbearing mother.

"Not great, but better." She replied honestly. "What happened?"

"High fever due to some infection they managed to knock out quickly. We're going home today." He said.

"Thank you" She said as she closed her eyes to go back to sleep.

"Anything and everything, Lis." He didn't think she heard it, but maybe she did.


	6. Chapter 6

**JLCH, can you read my mind? Your reference is coming up this chapter! Also, that is exactly what I meant!**

**Also, I guess I'm supposed to toss in that I don't really own any of this. David Shore does, and rumor has it he's a nice guy, so I won't steal from him. **

**I appreciate the reviews tremendously, so thanks for those. **

**Without further adieu… **

It was supposed to be a good week. She wanted one good week before she had to go back to the debilitating pain. She was sick and tired of being sick and tired. But, even with all of her desire for a good week, she was still standing in the shower, sobbing.

He had invited her over for dinner after work to try and take her mind off the fact that the only thing on her head was his wool cap. She had asked him to cut the rest of it off that morning, saying something about wanting control over it. He knew she just didn't want to watch it fall out. He had put water on to boil when he heard her in the shower. He sped down the hall, horrified at the thought of her falling down. She'd been in a long time.

"Cuddy?" He called as he pushed the bathroom door open. The mugginess hit him as he made his way over to the shower. The water felt cold as he peaked in and saw her huddled in the corner. She must have run out of hot water. He quickly shut off the shower and grabbed her towel off the hook. He smiled briefly at the fact that she had a hook at his place. He wrapped the towel around her body, and pulled her into him. They sat wordlessly until he heard the sound of water boiling over on the stove. "I left you some sweats and a sweater on the counter, change, and I'll see you in a few minutes." She came out of the bathroom in her sweats and his too big cardigan. He was cleaning up the water and putting new on. She sat at the island, before pulling a hat on her head.

"Sorry about the water" She whispered to him, head down in what was probably shame.

"Don't worry about it. It's just a little water." He replied as he picked the cloth up off floor. She just kept looking down at the counter top. The kettle he put on earlier next to the pot of water was screaming. He took it off the stove and poured her a cup of tea. "Do you want to tell me what's wrong?" She nodded, but didn't speak. He let her collect her thoughts as he poured spaghetti noodles into the pot of water.

"It's just that, even though they took the eggs already" She started, biting her bottom lip and hiding her hands in his sweater sleeves. "I probably w-won't be able to even _conceive_ a baby. And I-I-I really wanted to do that." He set the cup of tea on front of her as she allowed all of her emotions to flow out in salty tears onto the counter. "I just don't get why it has to take _everything_. Soon enough, you'll get tired of having to take care of me, and then it'll have you too." He stood up straight, and walked over to her, holding her face in his hands across the counter.

"It won't take me from you. Do you understand me? I'm not going anywhere." He said, his voice even and low.

"You don't know that. It could get too messy and you could change your mind…" She whispered.

"It won't get too messy. I won't get scared. I am here, and you're not going to get rid of me." He kissed her on the forehead before going back to his noodles. He pulled a jar of homemade sauce out of the cupboard and dumped it in another pan. She stood from her stool and pulled two shallow bowls, forks, and glasses out of the cabinets. He stirred the sauce and browned sausages while she set things at the counter. The food was ready minutes later and he served it up. They cracked jokes and enjoyed each other's company. He told her to leave the dishes on the counter; he'd get to them later.

She led him out to the sofa, and they had every intention of watching the movie she'd rented. Soon enough though, they were caught up in the warmth of one another. Maybe in some parallel universe where his leg didn't hurt and she wasn't sick, they did more than just fall asleep on the couch. And if you asked him he'd never admit it, but he was just as content with things this way.

**Alright, I'm going to try really hard to get three more chapters up before the weekend is over, because I'm out of town next week. Hope this chapter was as good as the last few. –PB **


	7. Chapter 7

She woke up three times that night and got sick. He held her firmly in his lap as she fell into a fitful sleep after the third time. She whimpered in her sleep, and he pulled her tighter in hopes to maybe absorb some of her seemingly endless pain. She stirred again around five in the morning.

"Did you sleep?" She asked him, adjusting in his hold.

"Yes" He lied. "How do you feel?"

"Horrific" She replied. Part of her thought she was getting too needy. She knew he hated needy women. "But I'll push through." She added.

"Round four today." He reminded gently, her eyes began to water.

"Can't we push it back?" She begged.

"No, you know we need the aggressive approach." He said gently.

"But I don't even _feel_ good." She was teetering on the edge of a colossal melt down.

"How about a bath and some breakfast? You'll feel a bit better after that." She nodded into his chest, and he helped her to the bathroom. She clung to him as he tried to set her on the toilet so he could run the bath. "Lis, I'm not going anywhere." She was obviously still terrified of him abandoning her. He allowed her to keep hold on his hand as he opened the warm water tap. Mesmerized by the water coming out of the faucet, he was momentarily distracted. He wondered if this was what taking care of him had been like for her all these years. It was hard. It took a lot out of him, and he wanted a break. But he knew better. He knew that she was either going to be okay, or not. The most he could do was try to make it a tad more bearable.

He helped her into the warm water and got her washed up. She changed into jeans and a sweater while he made breakfast. The pancakes bubbled in the pan he was using, and he smirked at the intense irony of the torrential downpour outside his window. She wandered out with a pair of socks in her hand, and sat on the sofa to put them on.

They ate in comfortable silence, and set the dishes in the sink. He helped her into her jacket as she pulled one of his wool caps over her head. The car ride to the hospital was uneventful.

"Maybe they can take it out" She mumbled when they were getting out of the car. He had pulled her into him in an attempt to keep the wind and rain off of her.

"You have a scan next week. They'll see then." He replied. They shuffled into the hospital, him still holding her to his body. She took solace in the wool of his jacket, burying her face into his shoulder. Cameron was in the elevator they boarded. She stood in awe as she watched House whisper reassuring things to Cuddy. He seemed so gentle, so calm, so _nice_. House and Cuddy exited the elevator on the Oncology floor. He got her settled in the chair, and then sat next to her.

"Hey, I'm going to go grab you a Sprite, and I think I might get some juice. Want anything else?" He asked, and she shook her head no, massaging her temples.

Wilson stopped him on the way down to the cafeteria.

"How is she?" He asked, as House stood in the elevator contemplating whether or not Cuddy might want some soup.

"She's sick." He replied coldly. Wilson had refused to see Cuddy, claiming that he wasn't strong enough to handle it. Ergo, House becoming primary caretaker.

"I can step in and help if you want." Wilson replied.

"I don't want that. You should have manned up from the get go." He spat back at Wilson. It didn't matter how tired he was, or how much his leg hurt. Cuddy had made it clear that if Wilson couldn't handle her when she was sick, he couldn't be around if she got better. When she got better.

"I'm sorry!" Wilson shouted at his retreating form. House spun on his heal.

"YOU"RE SORRY!" House screamed back

"IT WAS SCARY! I WAS SCARED! SHE'S MY FRIEND! I WAS TERRIFIED." Wilson retorted.

"THAT"S THE DAMN POINT!" House bellowed. "SHE'S TERRIFIED. SHE'S IN PAIN. SHE'S SICK. SHE'S YOUR FRIEND. YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO STEP UP. SHE'S SCARED THAT I'M GOING TO LEAVE HER, AND YOU GET OFF SCOTT FREE." He took a deep breath as he walked towards Wilson. "You're a coward." He whispered, and the stares from the passing people began to sink in. House turned away and continued towards the cafeteria.


	8. Chapter 8

**I appreciate all of your wonderful reviews, so thanks!**

**Anonymous reviews have been enabled also, for those wondering about that. **

**If you'd really like a time period for this, go ahead and consider it "Pre-Cuddy trying to adopt babies."**

**Alrighty…**

He didn't make it all the way to the cafeteria. In fact, he only made it about twenty more steps. The PA called a code blue to the chemotherapy center. Code blue meant death. A code blue meant someone in chemotherapy right this moment was dying. He cursed his bad leg for not being faster, as he moved through the hospital. He could hear nothing but his own voice screaming, and the PA calling the code blue. His mind was processing everything at a mile a minute, but he felt like he was moving in slow motion.

He burst into the chemotherapy center expecting the worst. The worst is what happens to him. He was convinced that she was dead, and he was too late. The code team was standing over by her curtain. Something in him willed through the throbbing pain in his leg. Pushing past people, he made his way over to her. She sat asleep in her chair, knees tucked up under her chin. The code had been for someone else. He scooped her up, and sat with her in his lap. And for the first time in years, he felt the unfamiliarity of tears on his face.

She woke, and saw his disheveled characteristics, not that it was shocking. However, she was stunned by the hot tears that were running down his face.

"House?" She whispered, trying to be as comforting as possible without letting her fear step in.

"They called a code blue here, and I thought it was you." He whispered into her hat.

"Greg, it's okay. I'm here." She replied, and he nodded. The nurse came over and unhooked Cuddy wordlessly from the machine. They stood and put their jackets back on.

"Lunch?" He asked quietly as he wiped his eyes. "I'm thinking soup, maybe at Leo's?" She loved Leo's. It was a diner they frequented because of the way the cut their sandwiches. She also knew how ridiculous that sounded.

"Sounds good." She replied, the chemo already starting to take hold of her body. She wrapped her hand around his arm as they exited the hospital.

He took in her appearance. His hat was way too big for her head, but she refused to wear one of her own. She sat curled in the passenger's side, and he could see a bit of exposed skin where her the hem of her sweater didn't meet the waist of her jeans. She looked stunning, but her pale skin and dark eyes made her seem older than she was. She reached for the hand he had resting on the gearshift, and he ran his thumb over hers.

The rain was still coming down when he parked his car at Leo's. He got out, and went over to her side, to help her out. She stood, and smiled at him. He smiled back, and led them in. The hostess greeted them by name, and sat them at the counter. Meals were eaten in silence most of the time, but he was just so happy she was sitting in front of him, that he couldn't keep himself contained. He cracked stupid jokes, and told funny stories for most of the meal, and she loved it. She loved seeing him be genuinely happy. They picked up a few more movies they'd never watch on their way home.

He was busying himself cleaning, and moving things around while she sat on the sofa.

"I'm not made of glass, House." She muttered "Let me help you" His face grew dark, and a sort of unnecessary anger boiled in him.

"Yeah, you kind of are." He spat back. She was furious, and she couldn't explain it. He wasn't supposed to take it that way, and his response felt like a slap in the face. She stood, and steadied herself.

"You can't treat me like I'm fragile." She said, her voice calm and even "You can't"

"Don't you realize that you are?" He replied, voice raised.

"Damn it, House! How am I ever going to get any better if you treat me like a child? Stop being so fucking stubborn." She screamed at him.

"I love you" He replied. They both stood, stunned by his words.

"W-what?"

"I love you" He replied with a new sense of confidence. He walked toward her, and pulled her into his chest. "I love you, and I'm sorry. I'm sorry about everything. I'm going to wash the dishes. You can dry." The stood at the sink and washed dishes quietly until she seemed tired, and he led them to his room where they changed and laid in his bed. His eyes were closed when she rolled on her side to look at him.

"I love you, too." She whispered into the mess of white sheets that was between them. And she thought maybe in the morning she could say it to awake House. She thought that then it'd be okay. He waited until she rolled back over to smile, because it was the best sound he'd ever heard.


	9. Chapter 9

**I'm so sorry this has taken forever and a day to update. **

She woke up curled into his side. He was gripping his bad leg with the other hand, and grinding in his teeth in what she could only assume was pain. He'd given everything for her. There was no Vicodin, no alcohol, and no drugs left. He had given it all up for her comfort. The pain on his sleeping face was obvious, so she woke him. He grunted and then smiled down at her.

"Good morning" He said quietly

"Does your leg hurt?" She replied, and he looked taken aback until he realized his hand was still trying to massage his leg.

"Yeah" Was all he said in reply.

"Do you want to take something for it?" She was testing him.

"I'll probably have an ibuprofen when I get up, but other than that, no." He replied trying to hide the hurt in his voice. She felt ridiculous for treating him like a child. They got up, and he took the meds. She helped him cook breakfast, not that she could really keep it down. They were sitting in the bathroom, her head pushed up against the cool porcelain toilet lid. He was sitting behind her, running his fingers up and down the length of her spine. She relaxed into his body.

"House?" She whispered

"Hmm?"

"I love you, too." She started, and he smiled. "I love you, and I'm going to need you to say it back because I'm not even entirely sure that you said it last night." She finished nervously.

"I love you, Lis. And I'm never going to say it enough, and you're going to get mad at me all the time because I can't say it. Part of me knows that that's what'll happen to us. But just know that I love you with my entire being. I'll try to mention that as much as possible." He replied. And they got up off the floor, and laughed about the fact that the first place she said I love you was in the bathroom.

They made it through the day for the most part. Only to end up entangled in each other for another night of sleep. She just needed a little more nighttime, considered it something for the pain.

It was early when she woke because of the pain in her stomach. She turned on her side to face him and then decided against waking him, and turned back on her side facing his large bay windows. The sun was going to rise over the New Jersey winter in mere hours. She whimpered in pain as another round of cramps collided with her body. He woke to her stirring and place a hand on her shoulder.

"Cuddy?" He whispered, and all he got in return was a ragged breath and a stifled sob. "Lisa, what is it?"

"Nothing, it's nothing." She replied as she tried to massage the pain away. He wasn't having it though. He pulled her cold body into his warm one. And she let out a few more breaths. He could see the pain on her face.

"What hurts the most?"

"My heart" She replied, and he knew it was metaphorical, and he wanted her pain to be his, and her heartbreak to be his, because she was good. And good people don't deserve crippling heartache.

"Lis"

"I'm just so broken, and I can't fix it, and I'm scared."

"Of what?"

"That I can't love you as much as you love me. That I won't ever be good enough for that." She replied, her voice hushed.

"Lisa, I need you. You're my love, my home. I need you with me because I don't deserve you, but here you are anyways." She turned and buried her face into his chest, taking in the scent of him.

"My stomach hurts" She replied. And it meant so much more than just the words. He turned her away from him and she sunk into him. Skillfully, he began to massage the tight spots in her abdomen. She sighed, and he returned to the "It's okay. I love you. I'm so sorry" mantra, as he felt her go back to a fitful sleep. He took solace only in her even breath. It was the only hope he had.


	10. Chapter 10

**Alright, we're down to the last two chapter guys. I can't really bring myself to let Cuddy die, but I can't bring the pained, twisted writer in me to let her live. So, we're going to run this like a "Choose Your Own Adventure" book. Remember those? Ergo, if you have read this story in the hopes that she will live, read on. If you have read this and have the same darkness in you that I seem to, move on to chapter eleven. Or read both, but when you do, start at the beginning both times. **

They went into the hospital within the next few days for her scans. The sickness she had been feeling a few nights ago had only escalated, but it had in him too. It seemed they both managed to come down with a nasty flu. Wonderful.

She lay in the MRI intensely still listening to House's even voice ring through the microphone.

"Would you just lay still, Lady!" He taunted, and she smiled. "Ooo! Images are processing!" He chirped. And the tech began to enter his password to get the images on the monitor.

"WAIT!" She cried, and House gripped the mic. "Turn around!" She shouted at him, and although he was confused, he turned around.

"It's not like I haven't seen you naked." He mumbled under his breath.

"Tell me" She said.

"Tell you what?" He replied, before realization struck him. "Lis"

"Tell me you'll love me even if this test doesn't go the way we want It to. Tell me you'll love me even if I die in the next three minutes." She replied

"I love you." He replied "I love you even though you snore. I love you even though you never rinse your dishes. I love you even though you always finish off the ice cream. I love you because I can't make my heart stop doing the thing where it races, and my brain does all of the really fast processing. I love you no matter what. I love you enough to not propose marriage because we're so above that. I love you so much that right now in this moment I want to propose a lifetime." And with that he turned around, and got an eyeful of clear scans. His goofy grin assured her that she was not, going to die. And that was enough for her.

Eventually her hair grew back.

Eventually she moved all of her things to his apartment.

Eventually he got sick on occasion and she took care of him.

Eventually they had the conversation about a family.

Eventually they adopted a brilliant, difficult ten year old boy.

Eventually they got around to everything they wanted to, because that's life. Sometimes it's way harder than what it should be. But eventually, he got greatness from a so called meaningless life.

_FIN_

**Okay, so other ending is in the next chapter, kids. If you're reading it, go back to the beginning. Don't just read the next chapter! I will not have it!**


	11. Chapter 11

**Here it is, just a little something to fulfill the darkness in us all. **

They went in for her scans a few days early. She had been absolutely miserable and so House called and got things moved along. They walked through the parking lot in the pouring down rain, and made it into the hospital, soaked to the bone. He removed her jacket from her shivering body, and pulled off his own too. He set them off to the side and peeled his dry sweater off his body and wrapped her in it as they sat in the waiting room. Soft tears made their way down the cheeks of a young woman sitting next to them. Her knees were tucked under her chin as she tried to stifle sobs. Cuddy came to a startling realization. It could have been her. She could be the one sitting alone, crying to herself. But instead she sat next to a man who cared for her. He didn't just love her, but he also knew what it was like to take care of her.

They called her in for the scans and his voice radiated through the mic.

"Lis, does it sound like a rocket?" He charmed "I always feel like I'm in a rocket!" She giggled at his humor on such a dark day. "Like, you're not even getting an MRI! In fact, Ground Control to Lis! Come in Lis!"

"I'm here!" She whispered back

"Good! Stay with us, because you haven't finished your mission!" And then the tech announced that the scans would be up in a moment.

"Wait!" She shouted "Turn around"

"Okay" He did as he was told and sat with his back to the MRI machine.

"Tell me you love me. Tell me you'll love me anyways"

"I love you." He replied. "I love you because when you set the table, you always put my bad leg on the inside so nothing bumps it. I love you because you make fun of my bad jokes. I love you because you're brilliant and gorgeous. I love you even if this doesn't work out, if living isn't going to work out for you. I love you, always"

"Oh, I love you too." She replied, and he turned around.

The scans lit up like a Christmas tree (_mental note: That line belongs to John Green)_

He smiled up at her, real big. She knew, she knew she was dead at that point. He pointed his nose to the ceiling and tried to suppress the tears that were coming no matter how much gravity he applied.

She decided she didn't want more chemo.

The tumors eventually got to her.

They were lying in bed one night, her against his chest. It would have been perfect if it was his bed at their apartment, but it was the hospital. She was dying. His rock was dying right in front of him.

"Tell me something?" She begged

"Anything" He replied

"Why have you stayed? I'm literally dying on you, and you just keep on taking all the hurt."

"You make me want to be better. You make me want to be good. Lisa Cuddy, you make me want to be a good man, and part of me hates that. And then a massive part of me loves that, and you. And that would be what is anchoring me to your side. Because I love you, and so you can't die, okay? It's not allowed. I'm not going to let it happen. I will fight. Let me fight." And he heard the monitor flatline. "Let me fight" He sobbed as he pulled her into his chest. She was DNR, and so all he could do was hold her.

He whispered the farmiliar mantra into his hat on her head.

"It's alright. I love you. I'm so sorry." Except now, all he could think was "I'll fight for you. I'll fight for you. I'll fight for you."

Eventually he got out of the hospital bed.

Eventually he gave a speech at her funeral.

Eventually he sold the apartment and took the piano and the sheets she liked and put them in a house.

Eventually he adopted a brilliant, difficult ten year old boy who reminded him exactly of her.

And he played the piano, and he became a father, and he practiced medicine.

He did the things she trained him to do, and he was forever grateful.

_FIN_


End file.
